Patriotism: Choice or Coercion?

Hi

"My kind of loyalty was loyalty to one's country, not to its institutions or its office holders"- Mark Twain.

Zim-Twitter has been abuzz with this Patriot Bill thing and I'm guessing most of you have heard of it and so me coming here and writing on a subject so cliché might seem so insane but hey, what has to be said gotta be said, no matter how old it gets. 

I would like you to picture this scene in the National Assembly on the 2nd of March. Allow me to quote Honorable Alum Mpofu who talks of enacting a law that, "prohibits any Zimbabwean citizen from wilfully communicating messages intended to harm the image and reputation of the country on International platforms or engaging with foreign countries with the intention of communicating messages that are intended to harm the country's positive image and or to under its integrity and reputation."

Fair enough, that is if you're not Zimbabwean or rather you are blind to current issues in Zimbabwe.

Now, Honorable Togarepi doesn't beat around the bushes. Picture him saying, again I quote, "If you attack the leader of this country, that has an effect when that leader goes out to source business. Nobody wants to do business with a person who from his country is called so many names. So it is very important that the media, politicians, business people and all citizens of this country understand that they are people of Zimbabwe first before their political and business interests."

Well, I have a lot to make out of that bold statement but for now I can say, "Excellent job". If you were ever fortunate enough to read the Logan Act, that is a brief and clever summation of it by Honourable Togarepi right there. Just in case you want to find it in the Hansard, the right potion is beautifully but deceptively headed, "Promotion of the Country's Positive Image and Brand".

That's the foundation of it all, the Patriot Bill which so many political activists are urging people to resist in anyway possible. Which is really interesting, isn't patriotism supposed to be a good thing. It obviously is a good thing so why then are we so set on going against the Bill which seeks to put patriotism and a manifestation of our love for Zimbabwe on the legal sphere? 

Maybe we should deal with what patriotism is, without attaching some political connotations to it (and that is almost impossible ladies and gentlemen).

Patriotism is the quality of being devoted to and having a vigorous support for one's country. It shows robust support for one's country even when it is going through tough times. It's more like that love which conquers even when put to the test, you know the Romeo and Juliet kinda love. It embodies sacrifice for the country to protects it's honour (yes, sacrifice).  

Again, allow me to take you back to one interesting conversation back in 1816 which I'm hoping would in a simplistic way, explain the concept of patriotism. Stephen Decatur's well known 1816 toast goes like, "Our Country! In her intercourse with foreign nations, may she always be in the right; but our country; right or wrong." Now that really sounds like a parent who doesn't want to hear that they are wrong, always right.

John Quincy Adams' reply to Stephen goes like, "My toast would be, may our Country always be successful, but successful or otherwise; always right." Indeed that's interesting, like a loving mother who would always be there for you no matter what but also defends you even when she clearly knows you're in the wrong. 

So clearly, patriotism sounds like the old adage, "blood is thicker than water". And now that makes it so questionable because sometimes in it's thickness blood won't quench your thirst as efficiently as water does and sometimes it houses viruses and cancers we really do not want. Just saying.

Ok, now let's move on to the political side of patriotism. Most interestingly, patriotism doesn't mean support towards a particular political party or leader but rather it means abiding by the system of governance laid down by constitutional makers. And in Zimbabwe and anywhere else, once you involve government, that's politics. Politically speaking, patriotism seeks to provide a rather significant source of commitment to the country and this somehow indirectly extends to how one now has an obligation, a political obligation of loyalty.  It seems to try and instill  within citizens a feeling of responsibility and pride towards one's nation but that pride and responsibility is put through the test of political allegiance, loyalty or dedication. Frankly speaking, that seems harmless but that is only until you open your eyes to the relationship between law and politics.

The relationship between law and politics, particularly here in Zimbabwe is one thing you don't need to have gone through law school in order to understand. By reading newspapers or watching ZBC, you can already establish that something controls the other. Legislation has always been an old age political tool and clearly government relies on it to influence the civic space. So my question is, is the proposed Patriot Bill on national considerations or is it just one of the commonest and shrewd political tools?

Thing is, the Bill aims to criminalise and prescribe stiff punishment for citizens who are said to campaign against national interests or publish falsehoods and a lot more depressing stuff. Given the Zimbabwean context, this is one wicked but clever way to silence critics but this is stretching it too far, given the Constitutional values and principles that the Bill would bury if it is approved. The country has been a hub of human rights crisis, electoral violence, press censorship, Gukurahundi genocide, corruption, you name it. And now citizens can not talk of that or tweet about it because they are tarnishing the country's image. Crazy right? If citizens do not call upon government to be responsible, who then will. It's clear that this Bill is just a sick attempt at silencing voices that call for responsibility from people holding office and once you see them trying to silence people, something is definitely fishy.

 Thing is, this Bill goes against the most basic tenets of democracy and respect for fundamental rights like freedom of expression. Why would someone go through such lengths unless they have been personally affected by those utterances they seek to silence. And this makes me wonder, do our legislators know of Constitutional Supremacy or are they deliberately set on not upholding it? It is against corruption, against incompetence, against arrest of students, against abuse of human rights and electoral violence that people campaign against and nothing is wrong with that. But as the Shona would say, "Ukabata chidhoma, amai vacho vanochema." 

Patriotism, as an emotion, does not even qualify as a reason for obedience or shoving obedience down people's throats. The Bill calls for political obedience, absolute obedience in life or death situations. It calls for obedience where children of political activists prematurely become orphans, where children of civil servants sometimes go to bed hungry. It calls for obedience where half its young people marry strangers in Sweden and Australia just so they can leave the country.  It calls for obedience where men lay on their deathbeds, defeated by life, regretting a life not lived because someone made it impossible for them. 

How is one expected to be loyal to a country whose ideological basis is seemingly evil? Do the tenets that underpin this Bill bear the fact that it isn't intended to prevent fraud or treason or promoting loyalty or is it is rather a wolf in sheep's clothing?

Truth is, if a person loves his/her country, they strive to make it best and silence really is nit how it is done. So real patriotism is not one governed by a draft of paper, it is not one where its citizens are coerced into silence and watch every institution collapse with rot. It is a voluntary feeling of allegiance that is driven by the knowledge  and belief in the potential that our country has and the ability to demand the absolute best and accountability from our leaders. Real patriotism has always been a willingness to challenge the government when it is wrong.

So as long as the Patriotic Bill does not address this and seeks to repress rather than progress, our answer as Zimbabweans will always be a bold no.

#StopThePatrioticBill

Till next time

Mitchel.

Culture! A Murderer?

Hi.

Kaleidoscope is my favourite  Danielle Steel novel. I would put it on my top 20 list of best books ever written. I love it, read it in Form 3 and cried a lot because I couldn't imagine anyone going through all the stuff that Hilary and her sisters went through. I repeated the story to my brother and sister as a bedtime story, the tough little kids broke down and cried without even reading the book. The storyline was that powerful and so was my emotion when I told it. But if I ever read a book from Danielle Steel that got me thinking really deep, emotions set aside, then it's the Silent Honour. The book has a Japanese and American setting but it got me thinking of Africa, of Zimbabwe, of Insukamini, of my home. And so here we are revisiting culture and where it has failed most of us.

I would define culture as a collective set of ideas, customs and social behaviour, which a certain group of people adhere to. Take note of the words, Collective set and People. We will be revisiting those.

So first question is do I think culture is a bad thing? No, not always! But is it so bad that it could be  a murderer? Yes, I think it is! And I feel that a lot has to change because somehow we all have been tied to the heavy yoke of a culture which has done nothing but kill our dreams and in the process of killing our dreams, sent many of us to early graves of depression, goody-two-shoes, fake lives, repression, hate and suicide. And I know most of us don't want to hear an attack on culture, well, we're gonna tug it apart, not the good, just the bad.

There is thing called internalised oppression. This is oppression so deeply woven into our daily systems, so deep that it becomes almost normal. Societal institutions like government, education and culture reinforce these internalized systems of oppression and we all become so blind to it that we all accept it as normal yet it's wrong and destroying everybody. 

In my view, culture is the most effective of these systems in preserving and reinforcing internalized oppression. It is the most rogue culprit, in most cases of oppression and repression because somehow as an individual despite your own convictions, you're somehow obliged to follow some collective ideas which do not help you at all, which you do not believe in, which do not fit your narrative and which block your path to a future you.

In the definition of culture, I highlighted the words collective set and also the word people. There is nothing wrong with those words but come to think of it, culture seems to group people into one composite thing. Like it erases the individual person and makes him a part of a people. I get it, it really is for social identification purposes but is that it looking at it now? Do we all have to pay allegiance to  certain standards of living, governed by the same set of ideas when we are all separate individuals, with different ideologies? In that case is someone obliged to follow certain cultural ideas which go against their personal convictions? I mean he/she is a person not a people, he is a person before he becomes a people.

So I got a big problem with culture when it becomes repressive and oppressive instead of progressive. I remember a friend of mine who got accepted for a USAP Scholarship and got a place at some Ivy League university in the States. I don't know if this story has anything to do with culture but her parents definitely made it so. Her father expressly told her that she could not go to that American University because America was no place for a 19 year old girl on her own and it wasn't good for her cultural upbringing. The main issue was how she would go there and start wearing bikinis or start living the American way which to her father was an unacceptable thing for any African who has been raised well to indulge in. Like really? Just like that, because of the father's  cultural convictions, my friend is at UZ yet she had that opportunity to go and make it at a better institution. And she is depressed, it gets so bad, all in the name of culture. I don't get it.

The fun thing is how people are always all for the fact that culture is dynamic. They know how to say it, but be pragmatic about it, I don't know if they even attempt it. I'll give you an example of a dynamic culture. Remember the book Takadini? Yea you know it, the famous Zimbabwean book wasn't just a novel. There was once a time when culturally, albinos were deemed to be curses or bad omens. And it didn't stop with albinos only, twins, babies born with disabilities and many many more people were viewed as bad omens. And viewing them as bad omens was not just a point of view where you would see them roaming around and say "ooh that's a bad omen", these unfortunate individuals were murdered at birth and it was culturally justified. But fortunately, culture being dynamic, we no longer have such killings and discrimination justified under any cultural laws. 

Why then did we stop viewing culture as dynamic then? Why did we stop at that?

We live in an age and a country and a culture where it is acceptable to discriminate on certain individuals because somehow their person does not happen to be able to adhere to a set of ideas followed by a collective group of people. You all know what I'm talking about. I'm talking of Insukamini which would hate a lady and call her a whore because she wore trousers and wore a bright led lipstick. I'm talking of a Gweru tabloid which would have a field day on a man who does help his wife with the housework. I'm talking of people in Harare who would taunt a man who carried his baby, his baby on his back. Yes, I'm talking of Zimbabweans who would say it is unacceptable for a woman to be way too powerful because no man would want to marry her. There is an Africa which would do anything to criminalise someone's sexuality all in the name of culture, I'm talking of it. An Africa which pushes for a death sentence on not being heterosexual? It's crazy but we see it and we do nothing about it because if you do speak out against it, cultural guns waste no time silencing you. Isn't that oppression?

Culture is a good thing but it does not really have to go all reformer on an individual's conviction. How many people did not realize their full potential because culture defined their limits? A Christian culture which would view too much wealth as a gateway to hell and in the process it's people are always most willing to be rich but not too wealthy. An African culture where the children won't be able to talk about certain things to their parents and in the end they are sexually molested and they suffer all alone in silence and parents would only find out about it in a morning paper. A culture where when one aspires to be in the entertainment industry, their mother would say she is very disappointed and their father would tell them to pack their bags and leave. A culture where aunties are the loudest voices in the promotion of gender based violence for they would say a wise woman keeps her home tight, endures the beatings in silence for men are all like that, just little boys with a beard and balls. A culture where men suffer in silence for they have to man up or else they are called some nasty names or sissy boys. A society where 50% of its dark skinned girls would do anything just to marry a white guy so their kid will not have to go through what they know very well they would.

A society where kids grow up in toxic homes, watching their parents fight every single day because once their mother leaves that marriage, she is called some names and her means of finding a livelihood are scrutinised and most always found to be unacceptable in society's eyes. A culture where a girl is afraid to make dreams a reality for not only is she sexually labeled, she is a threat to men and her life is threatened, a culture where I can't say I don't like cooking because my mom gets worried that she won't have a son in law and my friends will tell me that I just upped the probabilities of my husband cheating on me and the pastor would say that's the devil talking through me. A culture where because of religion and moral laws, one cannot do the profession they have always wanted because there are more seats in hell than there is in heaven. A culture where people won't talk of their  mental health issues which need urgent help because then they become too Westernised or crazy or ungrateful  little people or weaklings or living too much in a world of fantasy. 

And then we all act clueless and surprised when mental health related illnesses are on the rise. When 1 out of 4 children has depression, when 4 out of 10 Zimbabwean adults have attempted suicide. When 1 out of 3 people have tried highly intoxicating drugs, when 2 out of 10 spouses have tried hurting their partner and kids. 

If culture means oppression then I don't think it still serves the purpose of social identification and unity. A culture which doesn't agree that at the core of our being a people, we are different individuals but it doesn't mean we should alienate some of us because they are different. Where our differences break us instead of build us. It ceases to be culture when it discriminates, when it preaches hate, when it murders, when it buries it's own.

So be careful of nurturing a snake that would bite your children some day, if not you.

Till next time

Mitchel.

Insecurity breeds hate.

Hi.

I'm not trying to project my emotions on you, but there is no harm in saying it. I'm sad, upset, ashamed, mad, exhausted. I'm basically just a ball of all those emotions which are anything but positive and I hate it so so much. 

I feel that I've been so silent about certain things I should have spoken out against. Like I've let myself down so many times all in the cover of taking criticism with grace like a lady is supposed to. But what if staying calm and collected when we want to burst is really so breaking?

Note that I'm not here to write about colourism(that's for another day) but this thing I have had to face throughout my childhood and unfortunately now, borders along the lines of colourism and I hope my experiences will help explain the concept of how insecurity breeds hate.

Last year, sometime in May I guess that is when I wrote my first first Insecurity Breeds Hate article. Just like today, I was so so broken. It was in the middle of a pandemic but I had more than that to deal with. Happy me went to our local shops to get some stuff and that's when it all happened. I met these two ladies and they made it clear that I looked nice and bathed well and smelled good but I was just so dark no man would want me for a girlfriend. I thought they were joking but then the older lady, a reputable woman, went on to say, "umnyama yooh, you could really use some skin lightening products, men love them yellow-bones". I wanted to dismiss it all as a joke or just a merchant trying to advertise their skin lightening products but that was not the case. Then the young woman with her, no doubt beautiful and light skinned said, "angkaze ngibone umuntu omnyama omuhle vele" this meaning that she has never ever seen a beautiful dark person. They laughed! I laughed!

I hated myself so much for not having said anything but then realised it was not even a strange thing to hear anymore. I was so used to such remarks even from relatives who would ask stuff like why I was so dark when my parents were so light. For a long time as a kid I did not believe that I really was a part of my family and I remember my dad had a serious talk with me when I once told a relative that I was adopted. Everyone would just be so shocked at family gatherings that my mom, light skinned and her husband had a dark baby and to make matters worse having to explain that my young sister was really my young sister was the worst I ever had to deal with. But as a kid you can dismiss all that and go play hide and seek and never get to think much about it.

But it really went deeper than just relatives and friends asking all that.  Not to brag but in pre-school I was so good at acting, very very good that when we auditioned for our graduation play I was the automatic candidate for Mary. It was the Christmas Story play. I was good people and crammed those lines like a pro and my Mom bought me these beautiful white and pink dresses and white heels at the school's request, which were going to be my costume for the whole play. But who became Mary? Certainly not me and why? Because my teacher Mrs. Ndlovu told me that I was way too dark to portray Mary so a girl called Trish substituted me. I cried but just a little because I was then made narrator and was allowed to recite my own poem and also because my mom said it's fine I would have plenty chances to play Mary later in life. Silly me was charmed and forgot all that. I had just been bullied because of my skin colour.

Then in Grade 5 I believe that is when I really started being conscious of certain things associated with colour. Like how many boys would whistle all the way home when I walked with my light skinned friend but there is this one thing I learnt that particular year from my teacher. He taught me that dark people will always need light skinned people to shine their light on them when taking pictures so they do not come out looking so dark. It is a fun story really. It was a prize giving day of some sorts. And back in primary school coming out first was a big deal and my parents made it so and when I did there always were gifts to celebrate ranging from pens to diaries from puzzles to novels. So on this particular prize giving day, my mom brought with her all these nice gifts, wrapped beautifully in big boxes and I was elated. And so 10 year old me wanted all these moments captured and I had many  pictures taken but also wanted pictures with my two best friends. My other friend was light for days. It was me who came out first, I was the owner of the beautiful gifts and I rightfully felt that the middle position was obviously meant for me and I should hold my gifts. That is when the photographer who happened to be my teacher said my friend should be in the middle and hold the gifts because she was lighter than the two of us and would shine her light upon us so we would not look so dark. I don't know if the theory holds true but I know I was mad only for a little while. I felt so bullied but then that was it, it was a normal thing to make all these jokes about dark skinned people in primary school. I always get some backlash when I say being dark in primary school was one of the worst things most people I know had to go through. I myself had so many nasty nicknames which I try so hard not to remember because they were just way way too nasty but all that, I excused because generally primary school kids are the meanest bunch of people you will ever meet but then they are so mean because they are just innocent little kids. And so I forgot all these incidents and excused them as unfortunate little things. 

All Till Today!

So I was in town and this guy tries to hit on me. By the way I hate that so much, like you do not know me, my name or anything and you just saw me and now you want me? I've just never understood that. And I tell him that I don't believe anything he says and he just got mad like super mad and started saying all these nasty things and how he was just joking. But what stuck with me was when he said, "hamba Mnyamani, umubi futhi. And I don't date Darkies" meaning Leave, Darkie. You're ugly. And I don't date Darkies". It stung. It hurt so bad especially when the guys he was with started laughing. But I just hated myself for standing there and not fighting for myself and so like I always do, here I am venting on this blog because none of you really know me enough to judge me.

It is not only colourism that people really have to cope with there is so so much more. But looking at it all it all comes down to insecurity. We have gotten to a point where we are so insecure about a lot of stuff on us which makes us truly us and that drives us mad when we see someone who is exactly like us because they remind us of who we are and we totally lose it. We despise so much that which we can not change and our insecurities transform into pure hatred. We hate on so many people because somehow we are afraid to face ourselves when we would be in that same position or because they are really us and they remind us of who we are. Remember the women at my local shops? One of them was just as dark as me yet she felt good saying all that. We're human and it is normal that we are insecure but we lose the plot when you start hating on people for things they can't simply change or would not want to change even if they could.

The thing is we live in a world where capitalism feeds on our insecurities. A world so ruled by social media to the extent that beauty is equated to validation and likes taken for influence. A world where people are bashed for being real and admired for being fake. We live in a world whose foundations find their roots in such a patriarchal system that strong confident woman are viewed as overtly sexual and threatening so we all rip into them and tear them apart instead of celebrating them. We live in a world where we see colour, see size, see disability, see sexuality, see everything and are so keen to make judgements and seek to destroy that we view as unfit for society.

So really pick on why you dislike other men or women. Maybe it's because of their size, their complexion, their body hair, big eyes, fashion choices. Catch yourself the next time you feel like bringing others down. Be careful lest your own insecurities dig deep into the well of hatred. I'm not innocent of all this myself but I do try to watch out for what I say be it online or in person and trust me it is not easy but it is worth trying.

Watch out for your insecurities, do not let them send others to their graves way too soon. Be careful lest you become a murderer.

Till next time

Black, bold and beautiful

Mitchel.

Tigress; Not a Bitch!

Happy International Women's Day.

And one day she discovered that she was fierce and strong, and full of fire and that not even she could hold herself back because her passion burned brighter than her fears - Mark Anthony.

Today being International Women's Day, we are not blind to the fact that it is 2021, and she is still fighting. Women are not Bitches, might have been but that is no more! 

For years we have watched her being raised with specific mannerisms, under specific rules and orders of a patriarchal society. Like a bulldog, she has been taught that she has only got strength for small fights like keeping a marriage intact, keeping kids fed and clean, keeping your man happy and feeling dignified and respected. There might be nothing wrong with all that, if the woman so wishes, but that is not all there is to life and she needs to be given more than just domestic labels. Never has it been believed that she has the zest to conquer, all along she has been taught to bow.

Like I said, it is an era for change. It is high time society stopped labelling women and girls bitches. By so doing, you're simply imposing these limitations on her mind. You are simply telling her that she draws her strength from food prepared in the kitchens of controlled thinking. It will not help her at all for all she would be is an obedient, fragile and submissive woman who asks no questions. The food given to her in those kitchens of controlled thinking is not sustainable, it makes her tire fast and grow weary of her life. 

So I ask you, who then will give her the zeal to continue fighting for equality and equity? Where will she draw strength from so she can continue fighting against injustices carried out on those whose only misfortune is only being female?

But is she really a bitch? 

My understanding tells me, she never was a  bitch. Instead, she is a tigress who has been caged for far too long. So we are all wrong when we equate her strength to bullish stances. She has exponential strength which not only makes her fierce, it makes her a Woman and for that she will not bow to patriarchal injustices. So call her tigress, because not only can she fight, she possesses stealth in approach and not just for your mere dog and cat fights, she fights in the jungle and yes, bet on her to win because she will. 

Come to think of it, the early child marriages, always being second to men, being taught to please men always, being wife material, working twice as hard as men for the same recognition, labels that come with being successful and so so much more. I do not understand how anyone can ever call those small fights? But is she not a tigress, trying to fight all these wars?

Like the tigresses that she is,  she was born and raised in the midst of danger, a dangerous society which never believed in her. Taught to hunt from an early age, fending for herself, protecting a territory which today she would eventually contend for dominion. She is a tigress who has for so long been forced to bark, but now that she got her self freed, she roars! 

So she bids goodbye to the false niceties served on tables of patriarchy. She now feeds herself from the spoils of experience and past injustices. After all, her hunting days have taught her that her strength, her tears and her battles are enough for her sustainability as long as she chooses to fight. 

Undefined. Uncharted. Uncontrolled. She is a tigress, no longer controlled by the tigers, she works with them for a safe environment for women and girls.

So why then shall we fight her chances at equality?

Why?

Till next time

Mitchel.

P.S: ( Bitch in here is used in relation to female dogs, not negative labelling).

A Burning Flame

A Burning Flame!

 
Conversations with myself, this fire rages within me.
It wants to burn bridges and shout out that 
no one was born to be common,
We are all meant to be comets!
But only, if we acknowledge the darkness surrounding the stars that we are.
Is the world ready for our thoughts?

Take time, to connect the dots,
You'll see that we are all constellations forming our sparkly galaxy.
Take time to connect the dots, raise your torches up higher. 
Take time to look within yourself, and do everything in your power
To convince your shadow that you are truly worth following.
Is the world ready for the flame that burns?

These scars will be our beautiful marks of bravery,

 Souvenirs of how we crashed into everything,
Darting into space to claim our brilliance.
Remember, craters are a reminder that an indelible impact once shook the world.
And meteors will always be geological and scientific marvels,
So who cares if we fall?
Or maybe we are not stars;

But are we not astronomers, searching for the next shooting star?

-desertflower

Dear Men: Choose to challenge.

 

Dear Men

Does anything make a man more happier than receiving a letter addressed to him from a woman? At night? A femme fatale at that?

I assure you this question is not driven by certain stereotypes (you know them) but a genuine need to establish some friendly, common ground (I myself would be happy to receive such a letter lol). Ok, now that we are all warm and wrapped up in our nice, comfy blankets, let us tackle some pressing issues. I'm guessing you call it men talk or is it gents talk?

Generally men are smart (I'm not comparing you to women though), so I'm thinking most of you have heard of March being Women's Month. You have right? If not, then I have just told you. It is not meant only to be celebrated by women it is meant to be celebrated by women and men alike, celebrating women, for both women and men and broadly, for society at large. But still my heart aches at this year's theme, #CHOOSE TO CHALLENGE. Not only is it cliché, it has become so boring over the years because it has certainly become some sort of women's anthem💀💀 and it is so soooo monotonous. Trust me we can do with nicer themes like How To Not Break His PlayStation (and possibly his heart) or How to Help Men Cope When Their Favourite Soccer Team Loses. I  mean we as women are really good people but cone to think of it dear men, 34 years later, we still have to choose such themes not because we are old fashioned but because today more than ever, women still have these barriers they need to break. Out of necessity and out of desperation, they still have to challenge systems old enough to be laying dead in a cold morgue, never to be fought again, but here we are, 34 years later and we still choosing to challenge when we are supposed to be resting!

34 years later, we are still asking the same questions as yesterday's, we are still treading slowly and carefully because the path is still quite dimly lit and thorny and rugged. Our voices are still  hoarse not because we have shouted so much demanding change, but because we've got a 34 year old unquenched thirstiness which has not been offered any water yet, (maybe a little just to keep us long enough to shout a bit more). 34 years later, women's movements are still viewed as enemies of progress when all they have asked for is progressing together. 34 years later, she is still a daughter of Eve, he is still Adam's son and they will never be the same, more so be equals. 

Now before you all fire shots at me, I'm not blaming you for all this. (well maybe I am). All I'm saying is there is a lot to pin this on, men and women alike. We can go for poor strategic planning, we can pin this on how human follies often overcome the good intentions which a movement is truly based on. We can blame this on little understanding of what this actually is, we can say the women want way more than they deserve. Trust me we can list a page of possibilities but in all that, what have men done to contribute to this whole stagnant pool of  women fighting for one and the same thing every other year? 

I know of men old enough to be my grandfathers who think that feminism is a woman desperately trying to get a man out of his pants so she can put them on herself, leaving him naked (like she), leaving him to be ridiculed by young kids in the streets and men sitting on verandahs of old stores exchanging gossip over a cup of beer. I know of gents old enough to be my boyfriend who believe feminism is taking away their golden crowns and bestowing it on a woman's head just so she could rule over him and his ego is hurt he now can't face his peers. There are boys young enough to be taught the right thing, who believe and are taught that girls are fragile, docile and emotional beings hence they are not as strong and resilient as them boys hence they believe the football field is not a place for girls. There are fathers who believe that they can buy toy cars for only their young son who does not even love cars and buy a sweeping broom, some small playhouse utensils for their daughters, daughters who love following them around whenever they try fixing their cars.

 I know my facts are not unfounded and you know it too and you're wrong in believing that this is what women want. You're wrong in believing that women want to usurp power. You're wrong in wanting to believe that women are greedy little things who see challenging a patriarchal system as a little game they can play whenever they meet up. Waking up everyday thinking of challenging everything, thinking of working extra hard just to get that same recognition is as tiring as is holding on to power you know you do not deserve.

Dear men, when women are saying they are feminists, they mean you have been wearing the crown alone all this while, can we find a jeweler to make me mine exactly like yours so we can face the world together. When they say they choose to challenge, they do not mean they want your pants but they want theirs, designed just like yours, fitting them perfectly so that they are able to face and fight the world by your side.  When women say they want a matriarch, they are saying, let me complete the whole thing, let me be the matriarch to your patriarch that way we become stronger and united and invincible.

So until men understand that we are not fighting them, then we'll always choose to challenge that notion. We choose to challenge that girls are taught to be careful and dependent where men are taught to man up and be brave . We choose to challenge a society that raises girls who are timid and average and settle for less because if they are too learned, no man will ask them out, if they are successful, then no one is going to marry them, yet their boys are taught to chase success all the way up so they can have an woman they want. We choose to challenge a system that demands that our mothers be submissive to husbands who do not respect them at all, to husbands who provide nothing but a night of tears, babies  and prayers almost always never answered. We choose to challenge the plight of our sisters who have to bear the burden of shame for losing their virginity before marriage, yet our brothers and  boyfriends' body counts count as a conquest. Women choose to challenge that they are like you and should not be punished for it. 

So yes, as a woman writing this to men I say forgive us for wanting to be like you, to having the same opportunities as you. Forgive us for no matter how old the chants of feminism and equality become, they shall be our song till it's dawn at last. 

So whatever labels come with being feminist, let them be, for I would rather be obnoxious than be complicit in my own dehumanisation and that of other women as well. 

Dear men, I also promise you that should you find yourself victims of a matriarchal society, then I would fight for you with the same vigor I fight for women, for as a woman I would know how it feels like to be in that position. And also as a shout to all the men who have always been allies in the feminist movement.

So dear men, this was in no way a call for a fight but an invite. I invite you to choose to challenge hiding your insecurities and fears behind an imbalanced scale of power and oppression of women. I invite you to give meaning to long lost terms of man and women together, of Ammon and Lisa, of Yin and Yan. I urge you to give opportunity to women to complete and complement you while you do the same.

So as cliché as it seems dear men, please choose to challenge the world as you see it now.

Till you appear as subjects in my letters to women on Men's Day.

Sincerely

Mitchel.

ABILITY MEETS OPPORTUNITY

 

Happy new month.

"March, when days are getting long, let thy growing hours be strong to set right some wintry wrongs." - Caroline May.

To give you an idea of my current frame of mind, I'm in bed and I can not dare get out these blankets, the floor is freezing. I'm watching light showers hit my neighbours roof as I write this. I hate winter, this year's autumn seems like it got chilly way too early, but hey March could be savage and serene in an hour so keep the fire burning, the hope alight and the dreams alive.

Today I will tell you stories of people I had a chance to meet during my childhood years. just to make this fair, and to keep my promise of sharing some parts of me me with you all, I'll start with my very own story.

 I hated the first term of school, I think I still do (that means March was never my favourite month). It usually meant new teachers, new stuff, trying to get what the teacher was saying above the rumbling thunder, but you know what I hated the most, the athletics season! I was never an athletic person even though I was quite active at skipping games. But I did play Handball and scored some goals for my team in a big tournament, but that was during second term. 

So here is what happened during the first term, we would all be selected into teams, I was always in Cheetah They would make everyone run and do those long jumps and high jumps. That was the worst time of my life because I was so pathetic at all that, I could not even run to save my life but they would make me run and everytime I would be tailing behind everyone except this one other girl whom I could only beat at the race because she was obese. The teachers always had a good laugh when I finished last, most often walking up to the finishing line, nothing like the bright kid in class. Listen this is the worst part, I always brought novels with me to the grounds but then my teachers would hide them just so I could concentrate on the activities which I loathed so much.

But then I got lucky. I got old enough to make it on the quiz team. I loved that shit, it made me feel all grown up and wise and learned. You should have seen me holding my ten colourful pens which Daddy bought me for my 10th birthday, my bright notepads with all these big words, scientific names, amazing history, jaw-dropping inventions which most children my age did not even know. In my young  mind, this was exactly the place I was supposed to be, not the hot, rough playgrounds with sweat, noise and dizzying speed. I belonged here. I also loved what was called Academics which were for only Grade seven pupils. I did the Math and General Paper tests, shined, visited some new places because of it, like Zvishavane and Gokwe, made some friends with amazing kids from other schools, who up to date have been among my best friends, got to read Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys in some fancy libraries and got to spend some Education Ministry money and also got to really know what I wanted to do with my life from a very young age. All I'm saying is my abilities were not in any way a baby of the playgrounds. My abilities were in books and libraries and I was lucky to be given that opportunity to explore my ability unrestricted by anything else. I had parents who supported my passion. The little I  was good at was given an opportunity to flourish and as a result I can not complain of not having been given an opportunity to reap the most out of my abilities. 

 Realistically speaking, not everyone is really like me. In as much as we are all similar in that we all possess abilities which need to be explored, not everyone has the place to groom that ability, not everyone has the chance to groom a friendship between their abilities and opportunities granted them because no opportunity has ever been thrown their way. You know such people, I know them too and I'm going to tell you of my own people who never got to make the most out of their abilities because they never got that single opportunity to let it flourish.

Mtho is everything that screams star. From the way he walks, the way he talks, the way he dresses, his sloppy smile, he is not just your ordinary guy whom you can see and walk straight without trying to catch his eye. But forget it if you think that his charm lies in his physical being only, Mtho is a wizard of the soccer pitch. He is to a soccer ball what Victor Krum is to the snitch. I'm not a football fan, but I do know Mtho does it better than anyone I have ever seen. But who knows of Mtho? No one except us his hood peers! Has he been exposed? Yes, our star went on numerous trials as a high school kid but how can they ever choose a kid playing ball without shooters who is competing against footed opponents? So yes, in Mtho's case, exposure wasn't enough. He needed an opportunity to stem out of that exposure so he could draw his name in lights, but that will always be what it is, unexplored dreams. Do we blame him?

Sipho deserves to be in Hollywood. Not as an actress though she got the looks, not as a producer or a director but as the hit name behind all fashion shows. When Sipho does her thing behind the sewing machine, she definitely isn't waiting for you all to compare her against Beyoncé or J-Lo. Her hands got a Midas touch to it but hers specifically turns cloth and thread into a voluminous open book of whatever theme she chooses to pick. But Sipho definitely is not a designer, or a personal stylist to some big name in the entertainment industry. She is a teenage mom, who is studying nursing, her passion forgotten between taking care of her baby and caring after patients. Now we would never know if she would have graced papers because nothing was ever laid down for her as a stepping stone to reach her true potential. Who is to blame?

I would like to tell you of JJ's story. JJ is exactly my age and my high school classmate. I can write poetry all I want, but it never compares to JJ's literary genius. JJ is a lyricist in his own class. He knows how to highlight contemporary issues faced by the youth in a way I can only describe as painfully beautiful. He also is a very good musician. I don't know much about rap or hip-hop or do I even listen to much of it, but I know I can listen to JJ's tracks because not only are they accompanied by a great voice, they in no doubt carry so much depth and highlight the woes of a depressed youth, but that's not enough to make him a star. Currently speaking JJ is a musician wanna-be studying a degree he doesn't feel anything towards. No zeal, no passion, no determination, nothing! Just a young person drowning his depression in drugs, finding comfort in tattoos and piercings. Again, who is to blame?

So this is the case of my childhood friends. Depressing. I may not know who to blame. It could be the society which raised us, it could be parents who groomed us, it could even be ourselves. But that would take a long time trying to trace it back to the root cause. But I do know what to blame, zero opportunity.

See the thing is ability without opportunity is nothing. Nothing. This is because talent is not talent enough till you can take it out to  the world, till you can make it work wonders for you. So ability is not enough, it is like taking a man to a river full of fish, that doesn't work because no matter how close to the shore the fish are, the man got no fishing rod. If you ain't gonna give them that rod, then surely you can teach them to make one of their own. A river full of fish is nothing if you do not have nets or a fishing rod.

So we can blame whatever we want to, failed education system, privileges not afforded public schools, talk of what the Ministry of Sports, Art and Culture has not done or what parents haven't invested in towards their children's best abilities. Truth is as long as ability is not invested in, it would always, always be nothing.

Think of JJ, Sipho, Mtho and a million others whom we do not know, whom we might never know. Think of what they could have done, what they could be. Think of the great content we are missing out on because our stars were never afforded the opportunity to shine. Think of your own dreams, your own passions, your own abilities. Measure them against your opportunities and see if they ever have a chance to flourish, a chance to make it to the spring fountains so they can bloom brighter than imagined.

Have we made a society that will groom our abilities into shooting stars, or we will forever die dreaming of blossoming when we have got no stem or branches to hold on to?

Think about it. All of it.

Till next time.

Mitchel.

Kaleidoscope: Being young in Zimbabwe.

(This post is in relation to my experiences as a young Zimbabwean youth).

Honestly, I don't remember most of my dreams. Most times it's a complete black out ( I do not believe it's spiritual at all). Sometimes I only remember a few excerpts, like the main characters, or the setting but just never the whole storyline. It sucks, trust me, but I kinda find it funny and a good sport trying to fill the missing pieces and complete the picture just out of my imagination. It comes with a price though, my siblings call me Nebuchadnezzar!!(as if I'm male). 

Anyway, let's forget the dreams, the ones which you have when sleeping. Let us talk of dreams we have when we are wide awake. Real dreams!

I dream in colour. And I believe everyone does that. No one makes plans for the future knowing they are nothing but just bleak. We all dream of having nice cars, beautiful apartments, spoiling our parents, fancy holidays, you name it. And trust me, we all work so hard trying to make these dreams our goals with feet on the ground, trying to make them a reality. Truth is, for suckling young people, working hard is not enough or it's just not it at all. Most often, as young people we find out that though our dreams have been written in bubbles of vibrant colours, despite our efforts, against our wishes, our dreams are just black and white. Why? 

Our country has failed us, me and most youths, despite the fact that young people in Zimbabwe make up more than 60% of the population. We had and still have beautiful dreams of being entrepreneurs at 21, travelling around the world at 25. We have dreams of making it on the Forbes list before 40, running for public office before 30, some dream of carving out their names in sporting, in music, in academia, in modelling. But have we really done it? Most importantly, how close to possibility are these dreams? And do we blame the youth out there for spending their days basking in the sun, chainsmoking or whistling, trying to put their woes into some hip hop lyrics and jam along to their sufferings in a rap song which will bring them fame without money? Is the youth to be blamed for girls going after rich men just so they could pay their fees, buy their sanitary wear? Do we label it laziness, insanity, moral decadence or cultural decay? Or do we call it, A NATION'S FAILURE TO INVEST IN ITS YOUTH? 

Being a Zimbabwean youth is being in hell for most youths. Not only do you fight and hustle everyday on the economic front, you also fight political wars, whose genesis you cannot even fathom. It's knowing that if you want to make your dreams of colour true, your only opportunity is getting out of the country. Being young in Zimbabwe, is never knowing what freedom is for whatever step you take, you have everything to lose. 

Being youth in Zimbabwe is always a painful reminder of what you could have done with your life, what you could be doing with your life, the potential you have which never bears any fruit even when attempted, the ability you have to make headlines, to change the world, but you absolutely cannot do anything about it. Why? Because we are a youth that is talented, we are a youth that is gifted but never in our life has opportunity been granted us. We are a youth who have been forced to make mere survival on a daily basis a priority, a need, a must-do, but never have we been given the tools to survive.

Being a youth in Zimbabwe is being called a cry baby when you whine that you cannot make it. It is being called an enemy of government, for being brave enough to demand accountability from higher authorities. Being youth in Zimbabwe, is braving cold cells for asking what is due to us, for asking what they owe us, for wanting to be part of processes that secure our future. 

So excuse my anger, forgive us for demanding answers as to why we celebrate National Youth Day Friday, when we have absolutely nothing to celebrate? Why do we have to remain silent, when our sanity is threatened by a million and more questions? 

Why do we have to keep believing in dreams of colour when their fulfillment is threatened by these black and white dreams? 

Our question shall be why.

Till we get answers,

Mitchel.

Of Roses and Thorns!!

Cupid is one hell of a god! And I know you all agree with me on this one. He does his archery very well, shooting his arrows anywhere and everywhere without even missing. Fun thing is around this time of the year, people be like "I want that Cupid arrow to stab me now, right through my heart".  Well, that is Valentine's Day for you.

But Cupid really isn't the only thing that deserves recognition here.  I always think that if the year were to end in February, then it's automatic that every consecutive year, the word Rose(s) would always be word of the year. Every year, no word would even come up as runner up to that word. You all know February is a crazy month and truthfully speaking it is beautiful, what with couples and singletons trying to paint the town red. People manifesting their love, celebrating their special ones. 

But is that really all it is? A pure celebration of love, no ill intentions, nothing but just roses without thorns? Well, maybe not!

While other people are out there celebrating love in its purest form, I can't help but notice that some have really lost the plot of it all. The first thing people wanna know is what gift you got and most importantly, how much it cost. More like a celebration of a price tag and that doesn't really feel good when you know that you got a China shop gift when you were looking forward to some fancy Ferrrero Rocher or Godiva Chocolates.

Just a few weeks ago, Zim Twitter was ablaze with Kevin's roses which ranged between $300 -$700. There was some heated debate on how expensive and unneccesarry the roses were. But really, it should never be about the price. It's totally fine if your person can afford the expensive roses and it's perfectly ok if you can't afford the expensive gifts, after all it's not the price that matters but the true meaning behind the gift, right?

Roses are beautiful, but they got thorns too and this ought to be construed figuratively. Be careful how you handle Valentine, it might be the beautiful stepping stone over to a beautiful continuation of an amazing love story, or might be an end to a story that was once amazing. Be careful lest other traits boil to the surface only to taint your beautiful red. I'm talking about greed, dissatisfaction, ingratitude, jealous, show off, which might accompany the beautiful act of giving and receiving.  Let us not lose the whole point of Valentine and find ourselves drowning in tears of regret and heartbreak not really knowing how we got it wrong.

Be careful how you handle your roses. And their thorns too.

Happy Valentine's day.

Till next time

Mitchel.

Introductory remarks.

I have always been bad with introductions, especially when I have to introduce myself. I sometimes tend to to over exaggerate things, it's because like everyone else, I've always dreamt of seeing my name in sparkling lights. I rather hate it when I do some injustice, but well modest is one of the most important virtues, right? Fortunately, there are some things I'm rather good at, like talking to people and sitting like a lady(one thing they teach very well at mission schools). I'm also very good at voicing out my thoughts and feelings. Anyway, these are stories for another day.

I'm Mitchel( not Obama). I go by may other names, all with different emotions and stories attached to them. But I would rather tell you of that I also go by the name DesertFlower. More like a pen name, the Mitchel with the capability to put words down on paper and make something out of it without really having to awaken some well hidden dark corridors I rather not face. DesertFlower is the innocent, pure, untainted and unapologetic writer who you would meet rather often here.

Starting a blog has always been my dream. I have always been postponing it for quite a while because I thought I was still too amateur for this kind of thing. But hey, a writer is just an amateur who decided to show their work, so here I am tainting these pages with ink hoping that someone will read my posts, hoping that someone will like the stuff, hoping that somehow my ideas have an impact on someone's life. Hoping that somehow, by choosing not to be an in the closet writer, my voice would be heard and together we can make quite a difference.

This blog is going to be something else. It's not based upon a single particular theme. Rather I'm going to write on quite a number of issues, which might be prose or poetry. Some popular features here will be my thoughts on feminism, on Africa, on culture, on technology, on love, on sex and a whole lot of things. On good days, I would even tell you of childhood stories and teenage experiences which shaped my views on life.

So the first question I will address is why the title Tug-It? I grew up in Insukamini, Lower Gwelo.  It is a very beautiful place, with great history dating back to the days of Mzilikazi. It's something like 25-30 kilometres out of Gweru. Geographers would call it peri-urban. So life in Insukamini is basically a tug of war in almost everything. There are diverging forces between  conservatives and the liberals, between preserving culture and adopting to modern life. There is a tug of war between rural life and urban life, between A.T.R and Christianity, between dreams and reality, between abilities and opportunity. In every aspect of life, there is always that dissenting force and if not careful, you quite lose yourself in the rush of trying to pick a side you truly belong to. As a result, Tug It seeks to pull apart this conflicting dilemma, to wreck apart the unfair things I have seen and experienced, to unveil a lot of stuff I have been taught to be the correct thing when all it ever did was result in my dehumanisation. So this blog is gonna break down walls of silence, of fear and unveil what has always been said to be taboo or too radical.

I'm looking forward to amazing and enlightening posts. I'm also looking forward to insightful views and comments. I hope you all have a great reading corner here.

Till next time

Mitchel.